


Writer's Block

by Desbelleschoses



Category: Naruto
Genre: A date that's not a date, Alcohol, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Writer's Block, young sannin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desbelleschoses/pseuds/Desbelleschoses
Summary: Jiraiya has recently returned from Ame, and he's scheduled a book deal with his publisher for his newly-titled Icha Icha series. A bout of writer's block has him stuck before a deadline, and he hopes that spending a night on the town will bring his creativity back. Tsunade does her best to help him write a better story, giving him a little more inspiration than she had planned.





	1. Watch It All Play Out

With a precise, deliberate move of his fingers, Orochimaru released a drop from the pipette onto a glass slide, which he slid underneath the microscope. He fiddled with the lenses to bring the sample into focus. “I’m busy,” he stated, looking away from the specimen long enough to scribble some notes in the book to his right. “I don’t have time.”

“Come on,” Jiraiya prompted. He held a jar in his hands, examining the human eye suspended in liquid. With a grimace, he set it back on the shelf, unsettled when he swore it looked at him. “You’ve been in here for days. Have you even eaten? You’ll die if you don’t eat.”

“That’s why I have Anko,” Orochimaru reminded his teammate. “Lab assistants do more than sanitize the workspace.” She hadn’t been working for him very long, but she showed significant promise. Regrettably, he had sent her home for the night without thinking to have her bring him dinner from a nearby restaurant. At least he had some food pills tucked away, somewhere.

“I need my wingman! It’s a Saturday night, I’m back, and we should celebrate.”

“I can’t stop in the middle of an experiment.” He knew he had told him this a hundred times before. “I can’t leave and come back to it later. The process will continue with or without me, and if I’m not here to record my findings, I’ll have to start from scratch.” He turned away from the microscope, sorting through various dyes he had organized on a nearby table. “Can’t you ask Tsunade?”

“What?” Jiraiya laughed. “You think she’d come out with me as my wingwoman? She’d scare any girls off! None of them would come near me if I was with her. Besides, she’d never agree to that.”

Orochimaru shook the bottle of blue dye between his fingers before carrying it back to his station. “You know as well as I do that she’d do just about anything if you pick up her bar tab.” He paused while he wrote something down. “I won’t be done here for at least another three hours. You’re welcome to stay, if you like, but you’ll have to be quiet, so I can focus.”

Jiraiya huffed exaggeratedly. Three hours wasn’t _terrible_. That would put them at midnight. They would still have a few hours to hit the town. Well, he might as well entertain himself. He walked to the far side of the room, where a large, cylindrical tank bubbled as oxygen enriched the water supply. It appeared empty, but he couldn’t be sure. He gave three sharp raps on the glass with the knuckle of his index finger.

“If you can’t keep yourself from touching the equipment, you need to leave,” Orochimaru hissed, eyes still focused through the lenses of the microscope.

“Alright, alright. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“You’re a terrible liar, and you’re a distraction. You need to go.”

“But-”

“Out.”

“You suck,” Jiraiya grumbled, crossing his arms as he walked to the door. “You know, you have to hang out with us sometime. You’re pale enough as-is. Get some sunlight, have a drink.”

“I will, when you manage not to interrupt my process.”

“Fuck your process,” Jiraiya grumbled.

“ _Out_.” Orochimaru pointed at the door, lowering his hand only when he heard the door to his lab click shut.

Jiraiya exited the building and looked up, trying to guess the time. It was only about nine. He hadn’t heard from Tsunade, so she was either out gambling or at her apartment. It was a death sentence for his wallet if he found her in the gambling den, so he played it safe by deciding to check her residence first. With any luck, she’d be there, and willing to entertain him for a few hours. He’d had writer’s block for almost a week now, and he had to do _something_ to get him writing again. He had three more chapters to write before his next deadline.

He didn’t have to think about where to go; his feet carried him through the familiar streets. God, it was good to be home. As much as he cared for those kids, it had been a long couple of years out there, alone. Well, not alone, but without anyone older than half his age. He’d missed the smell of Konoha, the people, and, most of all, the sun. He’d have killed for just one day of sunlight in Ame. He did his best to push Konan, Yahiko, and Nagato from his mind; the night he had planned for himself in no way involved children.

It involved alcohol, a good time, and, if he was lucky, some company.

He stopped in front of a familiar door and knocked three times in a rhythm. He waited for a minute before he knocked again, this time calling, “Princess! I know you’re there!” He didn’t, but it was worth a try all the same.

With no response, he began to knock on the door rapidly. She couldn’t stand when he did that. If she was home, he’d earn her ire, but she would inevitably open the door. As expected, Tsunade jerked the front door back, taking away his instrument. She was dressed in sweat pants and a tank top, and her hair was down. He looked up at her face, and she was angry. Oh, fuck, she was pissed.

“What do you want?” she snapped, crossing her arms below her chest.

He had to play his cards carefully. If he could make the right moves, maybe he could get out unharmed _and_ convince her to join him. Starting the verbal dance, he began, “Can I come in? You’re not going to make me stand on your porch, are you?”

Her lips drew into a thin line as she looked up at him, studying his face. Apparently, he passed her test. She stepped back into her apartment, turning her back on him as she walked into the kitchen. Jiraiya let himself in and shut the door. So far, so good. He followed her, surprised to see her digging through her almost-empty cabinets.

“Everything I buy goes bad before I get to eat it,” she complained aloud. “I’m just going to stop buying food.” She tossed an unopened box into the trash for emphasis.

“You sound like Orochimaru.”

“You take that back.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Why are you here?”

“I was hoping you’d want to get a drink with me. It’s a Saturday night, and it’s been years since we went out.”

“Whose fault is that?” Tsunade grumbled, flipping over a pack of noodles to check the expiration date. It joined the box in the trash. “I planned on finding dinner, watching a movie, and going to bed early before my shift at the hospital. Why should I go out with you?”

Jiraiya continued to watch her, smirking when he realized her predicament. How did he not figure it out sooner? “You lost all your money again,” he stated his conclusion.

She wheeled around and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make fun of me,” she snapped, gesturing at him with an unopened granola bar.

He ran a hand over his face, doing his best not to laugh. “What am I going to do with you?” He shook his head and started to walk down the hallway.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, stalking after him. “Hey!” She threw the granola bar at his head, and he dodged the attack. “I’m talking to you.”

Jiraiya opened the door to her bedroom and began rifling through her dresser drawers. He tossed various articles of clothing at her, stating, “What I mean is that I’m taking you to dinner, Princess. You need to eat, and I need the company. Now get dressed.”

Tsunade looked down at the clothes in her arms, weighing her options. She had to set her pride against her stomach, and her stomach won. “Fine,” she relented. “Get out.”

“Do I have to?” As soon as the playful words left his mouth, he knew he’d gone a step too far. He slipped out the door before she could reprimand him, escaping her wrath. He walked back into the kitchen and took up the task of sorting through the cabinets, getting rid of almost everything. The woman was worse than he was. It was remarkable that neither of his teammates had died of starvation while he was gone.

“Let’s go,” Tsunade suggested as she reappeared, tying a ribbon around her hair to keep it in place. “Where are we going, exactly?” she added, realizing that she had no idea what she was getting herself into. The bribe of food took precedence over the rest at first.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Offer to buy me dinner and then ask me to choose where we go.”

“Most women would be happy about that, you know.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Have a little faith in me, Princess.”

“You know this isn’t a date.”

“I know.”

She eyed him warily. He seemed genuine enough. “Sushi?”

“Yeah, I can do sushi.” He grinned down at her. It wasn’t their usual haunt, but the change of pace might be nice. He wouldn’t have much of a chance of meeting women at a sushi bar, but there was plenty of time for that as the night went on. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm dramatically. Used to his behavior, she swatted him lightly on the bicep before taking it, aware that he wouldn’t relent until she did.

The pair went in search of their late dinner, weaving through the crowded, main streets as they entered the middle of the village. Tsunade stopped in front of a restaurant, but Jiraiya’s hold on her arm took her with him, despite her protests.

“What’s wrong with you? We agreed on sushi!”

“If we’re going to have sushi, we’re going to have _good_ sushi. You’re no fun when you’re sick, and I’m not taking that risk.”

“Jiraiya!”

“Indulge me.”

She bristled, but she did as she was told. They walked down several more streets before Jiraiya found what he was looking for. They entered the small restaurant and seated themselves at the bar, needing no time to decide what they wanted.

“I’ll take the tuna,” Jiraiya ordered.

“The squid, and a bottle of sake.” Tsunade smiled at their chef.

Holding up two fingers, Jiraiya corrected, “Two.”

Tsunade filled her saucer and took a sip before speaking. “I know you didn’t come to my apartment to buy me a pity dinner. What’s really going on?”

“I wanted to see if you had plans, and if you wanted to go to the bar. The whole food thing was secondary, but I’m glad I stopped by. I had to throw almost everything out.” He frowned, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “How’d you lose it this time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled.

“Princess…”

She sighed. “I was winning. Really! But, you know, I got cocky…”

Jiraiya bit back a chuckle by finishing his saucer, enjoying the burn down his throat as he filled it again. “And the fact that you were winning didn’t tip you off?”

“Hey, I can win every now and again.”

“Really?” He snorted in amusement.

She broke apart her chopsticks and snapped them near his nose.

The chef placed their plates in front of them before turning back to his work, preparing the next orders for the other guests. Tsunade picked up a piece and put it in her mouth. “Mmm.” It had been so long since she’d last had a satisfying meal like this.

“Good, right?” Jiraiya asked with a grin. “And you wanted to go to that chain restaurant.”

“Alright, I was wrong. I admit it.” She waved her hand dismissively before drinking more of her sake. “Now, be honest with me. You’re spoiling me, and I want to know why. I already told you that this isn’t a date.”

He shrugged, more than willing to admit the truth. “I missed you. I missed _this_. Is that so bad?”

She was flattered, although she refused to show it. All she allowed herself to say was, “It’s good to have you back.”

He grinned. “You missed me.”

She scoffed. “Right. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He lifted his saucer to his lips and took a drink. “Yeah, you definitely missed me.”

They both knew he wasn’t wrong. Trying to change the subject, Tsunade asked, “So, those kids. How did that go?”

Jiraiya thought back on the last few years of his life, summarizing, “It was interesting, to say the least. Not what I thought I was signing up for. They’re good kids, though. I’m sure they’ll do fine on their own, now.”

“Orochimaru and I thought you were out of your mind.”

He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, well, there were a couple of times you wouldn’t’ve been wrong.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to talk about Ame. Tell me what’s been going on here.”

“Not much, to be honest. Oro’s spending all his time in the lab. He’s taken on an apprentice, you know. Weird little girl…” Tsunade shrugged. “It’s just been more of the same. Shifts at the hospital, missions, that sort of thing. Sensei’s kid just made chunnin.”

“Good for him.” Jiraiya upended the last of his sake into his saucer. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Anything I need to be updated on?”

“I’m not half as interesting as you think I am,” she complained. “Trust me, there’s nothing exciting happening in my life other than my shifts in intensive care.”

“I found a publisher,” Jiraiya informed her. “My book, the one I wrote in Ame, is going to come out sometime next year. They’ve already slotted me for a second one.”

“A sequel?”

“Not exactly. I pitched a new series, and they bought it right away. But, now, I have to work on a schedule. I’m really bad at that; I need three more chapters by next week, and I’ve been stuck for days.”

“Can I help?”

Surprised by her offer, Jiraiya had to gather his thoughts before telling her, “Not really. I just need to get creative again. I sit down to write, and, just… nothing.”

“Come on, what inspires you? What makes you want to write? What helped you write in Ame?”

“The first book was completely different. I had all the material I needed, and the kids kept me so busy that when I sat down to write, it just worked. But the new series…” He drew random shapes in the air with his chopsticks as he tried to think. “It’s not the same. I can’t rely as much on personal experience. It needs a little more… finesse.”

“That’s how I’m going to pay you back for dinner,” Tsunade decided. “Let’s pay and get out of here. I’m going to make you write those chapters if it kills us.”

Jiraiya didn’t argue; having someone make him sit down and write, to keep him focused, was probably what he needed. He threw some bills on the counter to cover their tab, leaving the change for the chef. As they stepped out into the night, he asked, “Just go easy on me, okay? It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Trust me, I know. I can’t write to save my life, and that’s just counting memos and letters. You and your books… not even close to my wheelhouse.” Tsunade smiled at him, and he soaked in her compliment. He didn’t get very many. “I can provide sake, some company, and maybe a little motivation.”

“That’s more than I could ask.” He hadn’t had someone sit in on his writing process before. The material of his book was, say, sensitive, but if there was anyone he could trust to give him honest feedback, it was Tsunade. She might crack a few jokes, but she wouldn’t change her opinion of him just because he was trying to write a romance novel.

He flicked on the lights to her apartment, and she opened the cabinet above the refrigerator, bringing down a bottle of sake. He snorted, quipping “At least alcohol takes a while to go out of date.”

“I _could_ just not give you any.” She narrowed her brown eyes, like she was staring through his soul.

“I’m sorry.”

“Mm-hm.” She grabbed two glasses and walked into the living room, throwing herself down on the couch. She uncapped the bottle and handed Jiraiya his glass when he sat down on the opposite end. “So, let’s hear it. What do you have at this point? Where are you stuck?”

He pulled a notebook out of his pocket, hesitating before he opened it. “You have to swear that you won’t tell anyone. Not Oro, not sensei.”

Tsunade put her hand over her heart. “I swear. Now tell me!”

“Don’t laugh, okay? I pitched it as a romance series. You know, guy-gets-the-girl. But it’s from the guy’s point of view, you know? Something different that isn’t really done in the genre.”

“I like that,” Tsunade told him, her voice genuine. His ability to think of these things was what made her believe he had a career in writing. Those little nuances could make or break a book. She would have never thought of something so simple, but revolutionary. “That makes it different.”

“Exactly. But I can’t let that alienate the audience. Guys aren’t my only demographic, here. At least, I don’t want them to be. So, that’s where things have gotten a little tricky. Let me think of how to put this… I need the guy to go after this hard-to-get girl without looking like a total asshole.”

“So, don’t make him an asshole.”

“See, you say that like it’s easy. But us guys, if we like a girl, and she isn’t interested, we look creepy if we keep trying. There’s no sweep-you-of-your-feet moment for us; we have to do the sweeping. So, it can be really hit or miss.”

“Well, does she like him?”

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“Okay, but you should. You’re the author. You need to know what you’re working with here. Is she interested? Is she annoyed by him? And do you want him to grow on her? You have to get inside her head.”

Jiraiya tapped his pen against the notebook. How had he not thought of that? “She gets annoyed sometimes, and that’s genuine, because he can be a little forward. But, other times, she thinks it’s endearing. I think that’s what keeps him guessing? He can’t figure out the pattern. What do you think?”

Tsunade tucked her feet underneath her and turned to sit sideways on the couch, facing him. “Well, that’s not much to go on, but if I had to guess, I’d say she likes him. I don’t know that she _loves_ him, at least not yet, because it’s early in the book. But if a woman does that, it’s usually a sign that she’s into someone. Maybe he’s someone she doesn’t want to like, or thinks is relationship material?”

“So, you’re saying that she might be into the main character, but either doesn’t know it or doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He wrote down several lines in the notebook as he took this in. “I think I’ll go with doesn’t know it, and then move on to doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Sounds about right. So, here’s the big question: does he get her?”

“I don’t know.” He faltered. “I hadn’t decided.”

“No wonder you’re stuck!” She threw a decorative pillow at him, which he caught before it hit his face. “Idiot. You can’t write a book if you don’t know how it’ll end or what your characters are thinking!”

“Okay, okay!” Jiraiya drained his glass and held it out for her to refill. “I get it. I jumped in too quickly.”

“You can work with this, though. You could have your character trying to figure out what you’re asking me. Does she like him? Why does she get annoyed? You know, that type of thing.”

“That could add to the conflict. I was thinking about having her be in love with another man.”

She reached out and smacked him on the chest. “Don’t you dare pull that cliché shit. A woman can be uninterested if she’s single. If you have him win her away from another man, I will personally take your book and put it where the sun doesn’t shine.” There was a bit of fear in his eyes. Good. Fear was healthy. “We’re not all fragile creatures. Sure, she could have had her heart broken, or pine after someone else, but there are plenty of reasons a woman might not want to be with a man.”

“Like?” he asked, genuinely trying to get answers.

“She’s trying to figure herself out. She doesn’t want to be tied down. She’s not looking for a relationship. She lost someone. She doesn’t trust people.” Tsunade ticked off each point on her fingers, listing just a few. “But,” she raised her index finger, “that doesn’t mean that she isn’t interested in something simple. She could be looking for friendship, or even just sex. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Women aren’t as hard to figure out as you think, if you know what to look for.”

Jiraiya’s pen scratched across the paper, writing down everything she said. She was incredibly helpful, and he thought that she might have pulled him out of the rut he was in. “Give me a second,” he told her, flipping the page and continuing to write. She moved to the middle of the couch so that she could look to see what he was writing down.

“I can’t read your handwriting,” she complained, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t need to. This isn’t even a rough draft at this point.”

“So? Read it to me.”

“Keep it in your pants,” he grumbled, continuing to write so that he didn’t lose the words. He’d filled another two pages before he stopped, a smile on his face. Maybe his block was finally gone. “Okay, tell me how this sounds:

_He placed a hand on her hip and cradled the back of her head with the other. With a strong pull, she fell against him, and he captured her lips in a passionate kiss. Despite her protests, he held her there until she melted into the sensation.”_

“That sounds like a terrific way to get your ass kicked.”

“What?”

“That has to be the first time he kisses her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Any woman in her right mind would slap him and walk off. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been flirting, or if there’s tension. Unless she’s drunk off her ass, which it doesn’t sound like she is, there’s no way she’d let him get away with that.”

“Okay, Miss Expert. What would _you_ have him do?”

“He’s got to come in slowly. Just… here, let me show you. So, he should take his hand like this,” she took Jiraiya’s hand, movements mimicking her words, “and put it against her cheek. He could brush her hair back or stroke her cheek, something to get some contact going. Now, if she likes it, she’s going to smile or lean into it. Make her seem relaxed. If she’s fighting, she doesn’t want it, and that’s not somewhere you want to go.” She waited for him to nod in understanding. “Good. Now, what he does here can vary, but you can keep his hand on her hip if you want. I’d say he should move it to her lower back. See? Flat palm, enough to guide, but without physically grabbing her. You don’t want to make her feel trapped.”

His mouth felt dry as he looked straight at her, his brain doing its best to function in the current situation. His hands were on her. It wasn’t like he’d never touched her before; they’d sparred, and they’d leaned on one another after many a night with too much to drink. But this was different. Even if it was a demonstration, she’d put his hands on her. She was _letting_ him. He didn’t realize she was speaking to him until she shouted.

“Jiraiya!”

“Huh?”

“I’m trying to help you, here. The least you could do is listen.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

“Like I was saying, if he wants to pull her to him, have him apply a bit of pressure to her lower back. Draw her in, don’t pull her. Go on.”

He followed her prompting, subconsciously holding his breath when she was pressed against him. Sitting on the couch, their height difference wasn’t as pronounced. He was only a few inches above her.

“See the difference? There’s nothing wrong with getting a little rough, but that’s a big no for the first kiss. If he wants to get another chance at it, he needs to come in with a peck, linger for just a second, and then kiss her again. No tongue unless she starts it.” She grabbed his notebook and pen off the arm of the couch, moving her face from his hand so that she could write. “Let me put this down for you so that you don’t forget. I’ll be pissed if I read it and you use that shitty line in the final copy.”

“You want to read my book?” He didn’t conceal his surprise.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” She snapped the notebook shut. “You’re talented, and you know it.”

“I’m just surprised that you’d be interested in a romance novel written by me, of all people.”

“If you keep coming up with crap like this, I’ll make you add me on as a co-author. You’re going to need my help to write this book. Of course, I want to read it when it’s done.”

He crinkled his nose. “I guess I’m not as smooth as I thought.”

Tsunade did her best to fight back her laughter, but she failed. He was insulted, yet she couldn’t stop. She waved her hand, excusing herself before wiping the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She downed the rest of her glass to compose herself. “No, no, you’re not.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” he protested. “I’ll have you know, I have no trouble getting women.”

“You ‘get’ women because you’re hot and you buy them alcohol until they stop listening to you.” She snorted as she raised her glass to her lips. “Trust me, you don’t exactly have a silver tongue.”

“You think I’m hot.”

“Hm?”

“You just told me I’m hot.” He grinned widely at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Please. It’s an objective observation. Don’t let it go to your head. I could have said the same thing about Oro.”

“Nah. See, Oro’s pretty; remember, we agreed on that word for him before I left. But you just said I’m _hot_. There’s a big difference.”

“Just take the compliment, Jiraiya.”

“Oh, I am. See, I _know_ I’m hot. It’s just a fact. But _you_ said it.” He poked her playfully in the shoulder, laughing at the annoyance on her face.

“You know what? This is your problem. You push. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

He leaned back and picked up his glass. “Some people would call that settling.”

She shook the empty bottle from side to side, frowning to herself. She peeled herself off the couch and sauntered back into the kitchen, where she threw the bottle into the trash. On her toes, she reached into the cabinet above the refrigerator, groping where she couldn’t see. “Little help here?” she asked over her shoulder.

Jiraiya remained seated, watching her with a quirked eyebrow. “Only if you admit it.”

“Fuck you,” she grumbled, turning back to the task at hand. She improvised by climbing up onto her countertop, clinging to the top of the cupboard for balance. The way she had to contort her arm was far from comfortable, but she succeeded in reaching the bottle at the back of the cabinet. In victory, she withdrew it, moving a little too quickly for her inebriated state to pace. She slipped, but she fell for less than a second before she was steadied.

“Easy there, Princess.” Jiraiya lifted her off the counter and set her back on the ground with infuriating ease. “I think you’ve had enough.” He took the bottle from her hand and sat it on top of the fridge.

“I’m not drunk.” She crossed her arms.

“I know. Believe me. But that doesn’t mean I should enable you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and maneuvered her back into the living room. “I can’t have my writing partner wasted. We still have two more chapters to get through. You promised, remember?”

“Why did I do that?” she asked herself ruefully.

“Doesn’t matter; you’re locked in, now.” He sat back down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him.

“Fine, but I’m laying down.” She stretched across the sofa, her knees hanging over the arm and her head against Jiraiya’s thigh. By the way he looked down at her, she knew he was amused, but she couldn’t care less. “So, you have the guy kiss the girl. Then what?”

He settled back against the cushion, draping his arms over the back of the couch as he thought. Absentmindedly, his fingers traced lazy circles and swirls on her thigh, just above her knee; it surprised her that she didn’t swat him away. His chin was tilted up as he looked at the ceiling. “I guess he’ll figure out that he needs to be patient to win her over. She’ll probably keep rejecting him, but he’ll keep trying.”

“That isn’t romantic. Are you sure you’re writing for the right genre?”

He grinned down at her. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m writing _realistic_ romance. That dime-store crap old ladies read has nothing on my work. That’s all fantasy. I want mine to be _life_. The ups and the downs, with everything in between. It’s never that easy. People fight, they get jealous, they get rejected. But, they keep trying. _That’s_ what I’m going for.”

She nodded thoughtfully. It may have been the alcohol talking, but she agreed, “I see what you mean. Well, if you want to talk about a fucked-up love life, you don’t have to look further than our team.” Her laugh was bitter.

“What’s Orochimaru been up to that I don’t know about?” he asked, more than a little concerned by the thought. “Oh, my god, Tsunade. Please tell me that you and Oro didn’t…”

“No!” She reached up and put a hand on his forehead, forcing his head back up. “Pervert.”

“I had to ask.”

“No, you really didn’t. God. He’s like my brother.” She shuddered at the thought. Orochimaru was dear to her, and she loved him, but she certainly wasn’t _in love_ with him. He was a friend, a reassuring presence, and a shoulder to lean on. “And if you want to know what he’s been up to, ask him, not me. You know how private he is. I have to respect that.”

“Now I’m really curious.”

“Too bad.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Anything I missed while I was away?” he asked. “No new beaus I have to fight off?”

With a glint in her eye, Tsunade sat up and turned to face him. “You heard that the feudal lord died, right?  Well, his son thinks he wants to marry me.”

“His son?”

“Yeah. Something about my Senju blood, and all that crap. But, you have to see this. Hold on a sec.” She jumped up and rushed down the hall, returning a moment later with a cardboard box, a square foot large. “He,” she said as she sat back down, crossing one leg beneath her, “has been sending me useless little trinkets for ages, now. I kept sending them back, but he’d return them. I pawn most of it.” She laughed, taking delight in how her admirer was unknowingly funding her gambling habit. “But, but, he sends these little haikus with them. I was saving them so you could look at them when you got back.” With glee, she handed Jiraiya a folded piece of paper.

He smoothed the paper out and read aloud:

“ _Tsunade Senju_  
_Won’t you please accept my love_  
_And this sake set?_ ”

Jiraiya cackled, but Tsunade waved her hand to silence him as she read off another piece of paper.

_“I have seen your face_  
_Only in a photograph_  
_You have nice cheekbones_.”

“You’re fucking with me.” He took the piece of paper from her and read it himself. “He’s gotta be on something. I mean, he has to know how bad this is, right? No one’s that self-absorbed.”

“Oh, but he is. I have a year and a half’s worth of these things. And you want to know the best part? _I’ve never replied_. Not once. But these things just keep coming in the mail!”

He gave a low whistle. “Damn. He has it bad.”

“Thank you! God, no one else thinks it’s funny. Sensei wants me to write him and tell him one way or the other. Oro just doesn’t care. A year and a half of these things, and I _finally_ get to laugh with you about it!”

“So, I take it you’re not interested.”

She snorted. “I’d rather die than be a politician’s wife. Hell, I don’t think I want to be _anyone’s_ wife. Not for a long while, anyway. Sure as hell not to someone I don’t even know. It’s a stupid construct, anyway.”

Jiraiya bit his tongue before he reminded her that she didn’t always feel that way. Bringing up Dan was probably the worst thing he could do. Instead, he added his own opinion. “I think it might be nice in, what, twenty years? You know, when I’m retired, and all this bullshit is behind me. No war, no missions, just me and my books. When I’m not just living day by day. By then, I should have enough from my royalties to get myself a nice place, maybe with a view. Enjoy myself. Maybe then, I’ll settle down. But, for right now, we don’t get to be that lucky. We’re ninja.”

“Exactly,” Tsunade agreed.

“You know what? What do you say if, in twenty years, we’re both alive and very much alone, we tie the knot and get the hell out of here. Just say ‘fuck it’ and find somewhere away from this village and all this ninja bullshit.”

“Only if you’re rich enough to support my drinking and gambling.”

“Princess, no one could ever have that much money.” He deserved the punch he received on the arm. “Come on, yes or no?”

“I don’t know. What if you get old and ugly? Or if there’s no spark? I don’t want to promise you something I don’t want to keep.”

“Okay, first of all, I will never be ugly, and the fact that you would even think so is insulting. As for our compatibility, I think we’ve got that covered.”

“Making out in a cave eight years ago doesn’t count. We were in a war; nothing counts when you’re fighting a war.”

“Fair enough,” he had to admit. She was right, and he knew it. Even when he was eighteen, he knew that they’d pretend it never happened. It was one of the biggest disappointments of his life. “Damned shame, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“It not counting. I was using all my best moves, too. I mean, looking back, they weren’t great, but it was what I had.” He grinned at the thought. “You punched me in the jaw because I grabbed your ass. It was worth it.”

“I forgot about that…”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t!” He laughed.

It was completely on impulse that she caught him by the collar and pulled him down, silencing him when she pressed her lips against his. She tried to keep him there, but he pulled back, looking down at her in confusion. “Whoa, there,” he stammered, eyes wide. His hands loosened hers from his collar and moved them away. “Tsunade, look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two, jackass,” she snapped. “I’m not drunk. I’m lucid. If you want to be a prick about it-” The rest of her sentence died when he leaned back in, closing what little distance remained. She fought not to laugh when he placed his hand on her lower back; at least he learned quickly. When she deepened the kiss, she realized that this was the first time she’d allowed anyone to get close to her in this way since Dan. The thought didn’t bring heartache with it this time, which was a pleasant twist, but one that still stung.

But this was Jiraiya, for god’s sake. It wasn’t like she was replacing Dan. She hadn’t moved on, so she refused to feel guilty for her actions. This wasn’t about Dan, or filling the void he left. There was already a place for Jiraiya in her heart when Dan worked his way in; she didn’t have to reduce his space to make room. They had no secrets from one another. He knew that Jiraiya loved her, about the incident in the cave, about everything. But he was never jealous; he wasn’t that type of man.

When she knotted her fingers in Jiraiya’s hair, when he fell with her, on top of her, to lie on the couch, it was entirely different. What she had with Dan was light, almost spiritual. He was her one. Sometimes, she wondered if he even belonged on earth. He was the high she didn’t want to lose.

With Jiraiya, it felt more like she was sinking, being pulled down to a rock bottom she didn’t want to climb out of. He knew her deeply, intimately, so much so that she couldn’t wear her mask. He knew every scar and every mark because he’d witnessed them form.

She realized she hadn’t been breathing when she broke away, gasping for air. His lips grazed down the side of her neck, and she shifted beneath him. Immediately, he lifted himself up by placing his hands on either side of her head. He searched her face for any negative expression as he asked, “Too far?”

“No.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, all you have to do is tell me. I get it.”

“Stop being a good guy and get back down here.”

“Because if this has something to do with Dan, I don’t want you to do anything you might regret. I don’t want to be that guy.”

She groaned and ran a hand over her face. He’d taken the moment out back and killed it, so she might as well clarify. “No, this has nothing to do with Dan. I’m not repressing or escaping. I would have broken down by now if I was. Now, stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m going to break. I’m not. You can either accept that this is a completely lucid, consensual situation, or don’t, but you need to decide.”

“I need you to swear it to me. That this isn’t going to hurt you, or us.”

She wished she could take away the look in his eyes. He was being cautious, and she couldn’t blame him. When he’d left, she’d been far from okay. She placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled his head down, resting his forehead against her own. “I swear.”

Satisfied with her answer, he kissed her with fervor, holding himself up with one forearm, leaving the other free to roam down her side. She threw her arms around his neck to keep him close. Calloused fingertips brushed beneath her shirt, against her abdomen, and her hips bucked involuntarily in response. She could feel his self-satisfied smirk and bit his lower lip in retaliation. Her fingers worked against the knot in his belt, trying to loosen the fabric. Of course, he couldn’t just tie a simple knot. She should have known better.

“Why are you such a pain in the ass?” she murmured against his lips, trying to focus. She grinned at her victory when she finally released the strings of fabric. Her hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and he moved his hand away to reach over his back, grabbing the hem and pulling the article up and off his body, shifting his weight to free his other arm.

“There’s no way we can stay on this couch,” he complained as he tossed his jacket to the floor. “It might work for you, but I’m going to fall off.”

“Then get up,” she prompted, pushing against his shoulders. He stood up, and she followed suit, walking off down the hallway. For a moment, he stood in place, dumbfounded and confused. “Are you coming?” she called, tossing something down the hallway. He bent over and picked it up, realizing with a start that it was her shirt.

It took his body a moment to catch up with his mind. It was only when she said his name that he jumped into action.

“Jiraiya?”

Nearly tripping over his own feet, he stumbled down the hall, clumsily pulling his own shirt over his head as he went. He bumped against the wall hard enough that he’d probably end up with a bruise, but at least he knew he wasn’t dreaming. It had taken six years to get her to kiss him, and another six to get this far. He’d rather die than miss this chance, and, hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait six more years before he could have her to himself again. In fact, he would make sure that it wouldn’t be that long.


	2. Passion and Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up chapter that I hand't planned on writing, but that needed to be written. More angst than the first.

One delivery. Three triage patients, two coding. A child with a broken arm. One post-op. One DOA. One crash.

Tsunade didn’t have a chance to clean herself up. She’d forgotten to remove her surgical cap until one of the nurses reminded her that she still had it on, just as she walked out the door. Every muscle in her body ached. She had personally saved three lives that day, and she knew that was supposed to be her reward. Yet, as she walked down the street, her feet drug in the dirt.

Her fingers brushed her hair back from her forehead, and she grimaced at the lingering smell of latex and soap. Sixteen hours. It wasn’t supposed to be that long, but patients don’t care about schedules when they have an allergic reaction to their medicine because a tired nurse missed something on the chart.

It was always hard to pull herself out of bed at five in the morning for her six-o’clock shifts. The added challenge of shoving Jiraiya’s dead weight off of her cost her ten minutes, and she had to forgo most of her makeup routine to earn back the lost time. She’d been asked repeatedly if she was ill, and she wanted to punch the next person who mentioned it. She was a medic; She’d saved three lives that day, but God forbid she didn’t put on lipstick.

By a quarter after ten, she would be home. At ten-thirty, she would be showered and could search for dinner. With any luck, she’ll have eaten by a quarter ‘til eleven. Fifteen minutes to read and decompress, and then roughly seven hours of sleep, thanks to the attending who took pity on her by letting her come in at seven rather than six the next morning.

She fumbled for her keys in her pants pocket, cursing how deep they were on her scrubs. When she found them, they sat at the very bottom, a quarter down her thigh. Key in hand, she inserted it into the lock and opened the door to her apartment. Dazed, she shuffled in, kicking off her shoes beside the door. Finally, she allowed herself to yawn, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes from the effort. Rubbing them with one hand, trying to ease away the fatigue, her other hand ran against the wall in search of her light switch.

Her palm brushed upward, and she hesitated when her skin touched plastic, the switch already in the ‘on’ position.

She blinked her eyes open, squinting in the light as she examined the tornado that had hit her living room. Various pieces of paper were taped onto her walls, all covered in scribbled characters. If there was any semblance of order in the layout, she failed to see it. Balled, crumpled sheets were scattered across the carpet, while several more, pristine leaves gathered around the feet of her coffee table. In the middle of it all sat Jiraiya.

He hadn’t bothered to tie his hair back, and he looked more like an electrocution victim than a shinobi because of it. To her displeasure, and yet not to her surprise, she noticed that he’d dressed himself only as far as his boxers. He wrote like a madman, pen flying across the page until he ran out of room. He carelessly slid the paper out of the way, where it gathered with the others on the floor.

This was the first time that he’d made her speechless. Ruefully, her eyes roamed the chaos in front of her, not sure where she should begin. Impulse told her to throw him through the window without opening it. Fatigue told her to just sink down to the floor and cry. Logic, however, took a moment to jump into action.

“Why are you here?” Her voice was bewildered, and she looked at him in total confusion. She had been gone for _sixteen hours_.

“Can’t talk. Writing.” Jiraiya answered her in short syllables. “Take-out in the fridge.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to process the situation. Her stomach growled, and she sighed, looking down at her feet. She was far too tired to deal with this. Hoping to buy herself a little time to get her thoughts together, she walked into her kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, greeted by a Styrofoam take-out container on the middle shelf. Curious, she popped the tabs and lifted the lid.

Grilled chicken breast and stir-fried vegetables. God bless that man. Part of her wondered if he’d planned ahead by buying her favorite meal, to placate her. She tore the top of the container off and put the tray in the microwave, warming up her dinner. Even if he did, she begrudgingly had to admit that it worked. It didn’t answer her question, and it didn’t clean her mess of a living room, but it was one less thing she had to worry about that night.

The microwave beeped, and she took out her now-warm meal before digging around in a drawer in search of a fork and a knife. Weighing her options, she took a seat at the kitchen table. Finding out what he was up to could wait a few minutes. With hardly five minutes to herself at the hospital, dinner took precedence over everything else.

She supposed that this was payment enough for the chaos. It beat the hell out of the trail mix she’d planned to scarf down. Far hungrier than she thought, she finished the plate, where normally she would have tucked half away for another meal. Tempted as she was to just let her head fall against the table, she forced herself to stand and dispose of the trash. The utensils, she decided, could sit in the sink overnight.

Entering her living room once more, she saw that Jiraiya was no longer writing. To her amusement, he seemed to be trying to piece his pages together in the proper order. Of course, he couldn’t just set them to the side, one on top of the other, like any sane person would do. His lips moved, but he made no sound, clearly talking to himself in the process. He paid her no mind.

Deciding that it wasn’t worth the effort, Tsunade turned down the hall and walked to her bedroom. She closed the door to the master bath and turned the shower on, the water heating to an almost unbearable temperature. She stripped off her scrubs and threw them into the hamper before entering the shower. Soap lathered between her hands as she began to cleanse her body, trying to abrade away the negativity and death along with her sweat and grime. It was a ritual at this point. If she had to battle her hemophobia, that is.

The stinging water, coupled with an almost compulsive need to wash every inch of skin, was enough to make her feel clean. Her light complexion was flushed pink from the heat, and she felt a little light-headed, but it was nothing unusual during her ritual. Her fingernails scratched against her scalp as she kneaded shampoo into her hair, breathing in and out through her nose in a steady rhythm. The water washed away the cleanly odor of the hospital, and she inhaled the scent of sandalwood from her soaps. She liked to think that she inherited her fondness for woody, earth perfumes from her grandfather. It made her feel close to him, and, by extension, safe.

She dried her face with a washcloth as she fumbled for the tap, cutting off the steady stream. The room was fogged with water vapor, and the cloud only grew when she drew back the curtain. After bending over and wrapping her hair in a towel, she wrapped another around herself before stepping out into her bedroom. Her jaw nearly dropped when, to her surprise, her house guest was nowhere to be found.

Normally, she would have expected to see him right outside the door, panting like a dog. Realization dawned on her when she felt almost insulted by his absence. He’d risked life and limb the last time they went to the hot spring just to get a peek at her. The fact that there was something more important than his perverse pursuit was surprising. Granted, it was psychologically healthy, but surprising nonetheless.

A glance at the alarm clock at her bedside told her it was ten-thirty. In a stubborn refusal to alter her schedule in any way for Jiraiya, she dried off and pulled on her favorite pajamas, the ones that, to her, were comfortable enough to be a reward after a day from hell. She hung her towel back on the rack and closed the door to her bathroom before walking back down the hall.

There he sat, lost in his work, not even turning at her approach. She’d never seen him like this. This level of dedication and focus was rare for him; even when he was training with the toads, from what she’d seen when he was in this realm, he hadn’t been able to work this long. If she was right, and she was sure she was, he would have woken up at about nine that morning. The clutter he’d produced was very possibly the result of twelve hours of work, probably without many breaks. He’d eaten, clearly; well, at least dinner.

It dawned on her that he’d probably answered the door for the delivery man looking like he did now, and a sense of dread filled her stomach. Well, she wouldn’t be ordering from there any time soon.

She approached him, slipping behind him to take a seat on her couch. She leaned forward, resting one forearm on her knees as she placed a hand on his shoulder, careful to brush his unkempt hair aside. At her touch, he jolted, his entire body going rigid. It was almost like he was brought out of a genjutsu. He raised his free hand and brushed her fingers, realizing that she was behind him.

When he turned to look at her, concern flashed in his eyes. “What happened?” he asked, setting down his pen and abandoning his work. “You don’t look well.” He rose to his knees and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re warm.”

“I just got out of the shower, idiot.” She did her best to snap at him, but she appreciated his concern too much to be terribly scathing. “Do you want to tell me what happened to my living room?”

Jiraiya looked around, as though he was seeing the disarray for the first time. He let out a low whistle. “Sorry about that. I’ll clean it all up, I promise.” He pulled himself up to sit beside her on the couch. “I don’t know… I just woke up, and then, BAM! I had to write. I guess, once I started, I couldn’t stop.” He grinned sheepishly, regretting his blatant eccentricity.

Tsunade quirked an eyebrow at him, amused by the way his hair stuck out at odd angles around his face. “So that’s why you’re still here.”

A moment of silence passed between them before he admitted, “I wasn’t aware you’d wanted me to leave.”

She sat up a little straighter, gesturing with her hands and shaking her head. “It’s okay. If I had to let a madman into my apartment to destroy my living room, you’d be my first choice.” She’d hoped the joke would get a grin out of him, but she failed. “It’s not that I _wanted_ you to leave, per se. It’s more like I expected you to.” She clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I thought you’d disappear for a week before showing up again.”

He did have a nasty habit of running off like that, but only from his various flirtations. His lips parted slightly when he realized what she was saying, ready to spit out a string of protests. All of them sounded superficial. Without thinking, he said with indignance, “I’d never do that to you.”

Unsure how to respond, she settled for a satisfied, “Good.”

Something was wrong. “Did I do something?” he asked, carefully watching her reaction.

She sighed and turned, stretching her legs out on the couch and overtop of his. “No,” she assured him, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “It’s just been a really, _really_ long day.” _And I wasn’t expecting to come home to any of this_. Before she could forget, she added, “Thank you for dinner. Really. That was a pleasant surprise.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he let his fingers work at the soles of her feet, earning a contented sigh when he kneaded the arch. “I figured as much, when you weren’t home by eight.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “You were waiting for me, you giant sap.”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

Her stomach sank as she watched him, seeing only his profile as he looked straight ahead. He was smiling in that way he did when he was enamored with her; only with her. There was something in his eyes, in the slight lines at the creases. Suddenly, she felt like she needed to vomit, almost as though someone had plunged a hand into her and tore out her stomach. She jumped to her feet, using everything she had to squeeze out two words. “I can’t.”

The pain in her eyes knocked the wind out of his lungs. He froze when she retreated, walking with purpose and fists clenched at her sides, back down the hallway. The sound of a door slamming was enough to get him to his feet. His hands fumbled with the doorknob, jerking it from side to side against the lock. He pounded with an open palm against the wood. “Princess, open up!”

“You need to go.” Her voice was muffled on the other side.

“We need to talk,” he countered.

“Go home.”

“Tsunade, I swear to god I’ll break this door down. You know I will.” His voice came out as a growl, far more aggressive than he’d intended. He instantly regretted his tone, but, for whatever reason, he heard the faint click as the locking mechanism released.

The door opened, and she stood in the entryway, looking up at him. She was weary. Her eyes were almost lifeless, her posture slumped as she steadied herself on the door frame. After taking in a deep breath, she leveled her voice as much as she could. “I need you to go home. I can’t, Jiraiya. I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?” he pressed, taking a step toward her with the intent of embracing her. She evaded him by taking a step back at the same moment. “You need to talk to me.”

“No, I don’t,” she insisted, shaking her head. “Not about this.”

This stung him deep into his core. They’d always been able to talk, even when it hurt one of them to do so. “Tsunade…”

“Don’t.” She’d always been small in comparison to himself, but he’d never seen her look so fragile. Her voice caught in her throat and the backs of her thighs bumped against her bed. Allowing herself some comfort, she sat down, cradling a pillow against her chest as she took several, measured, deep breaths.

He let out a labored sigh. The last thing he wanted to do was push her, but part of him wanted absolution for something he didn’t know he’d done. Not following her demands was dangerous. He’d never seen her like this. He’d seen her broken, torn to pieces, lifeless; the way she was now radiating a level of self-loathing that exceeded her guilt at Dan’s death. In his opinion, she wasn’t safe. Until he decided she was, he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave her to the thoughts in her mind, deeply afraid that she would harm herself if he did so. With this decision, he stood in silence, his back against the doorframe. He left a considerable, respectful distance between them, but his crossed arms and stern expression showed his resolve.

She wouldn’t look at him. Her chin dug into the pillow as she hung her head, eyes trailing the pattern of her quilt. His gaze burned, but she chose not to do anything to help the pain. It was tempting to dig deep, to cut him where it hurt so that she could make him run away. Perhaps she would have done so, if he were anyone else. Jiraiya and Orochimaru were the only two people on this earth that she couldn’t imagine tearing into that way, and this left her without any defense.

Her voice was quiet, just on the edge of his hearing when she said, “He knew.”

“What?” He took a cautious step closer, if only to hear her better.

“Dan.” The way she said his name rang hollow. “He knew that you love me. He knew everything. But he wasn’t jealous, or threatened, or angry. He never was.” His security in their relationship was one of the things she had cherished.

“I didn’t know that.”

Her fingers sank deeper into the feather pillow, clutching it tighter. “I know it’s been three years. I know he wants me to move on. He loves me enough to want that.”

Jiraiya didn’t address the shift in tense she’d made.

“I have. I like to think I have. I was fine before. Yesterday… there was nothing wrong with yesterday. I felt okay. Happy. He wants that for me.” She drew in an unsteady breath. “I came home today, and you were still here. You’re everywhere. With your work and all the paper and the food in the fridge…” She shook her head. “And there was nothing wrong with it. I didn’t mind. And now I feel so goddamned guilty because you’re here, and I can’t even look at his picture! I miss him. I miss him so much. But, today and yesterday, I didn’t even _think_ about him until now. Not even when you asked me about him. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t want to or if I didn’t care, but I feel like the worst fucking person alive.”

“Princess,” he exhaled, daring to take a seat on the other side of her bed.

“It’s just so wrong!” Finally, she let her anger leak through. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to Dan! I’m such a goddamned selfish person that I didn’t care. Oh, God, what’s wrong with me?!” She buried her face in the pillow, muffling a wordless scream of frustration. Her shoulders shook, and she pulled away just enough to speak. “I’m betraying him. He’s heartbroken; he has to be. And it’s you, of all people. I’m taking advantage of you, and I can’t separate it, and it’s not fair to you or to him, and I’m such a fucking awful person to act this way.”

He didn’t know if his touch would be welcome, but he could see her teetering on the urge of a panic attack. He moved to her side and drew her against him, murmuring. “Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.” He modeled his own breathing to match the instructed tempo. Her head rested against his sternum, and she could hear the pattern which her body subconsciously began to mimic. He let her pull away when she was ready, visibly calmer than she was before. Upset as she was, he knew that her silence and the brief touch on his knee was the only way she could show her gratitude.

“It’s not fair,” she repeated, barely a whisper.

“If it’s alright with you, I think I’m capable of deciding what is and isn’t fair to me.” He didn’t force her to look at him, didn’t touch her. Whatever distance she wanted, he would give. “You want the truth? Yes, I love you. You know that. It’s nothing new, so stop treating it like it is. Yesterday… yesterday was amazing. But nothing’s changed since then. At least, not for me. If I thought that having sex would change the way we could just be with one-another…” he left the sentence unfinished.

Framing it the way he did, she realized that, had yesterday not ended the way it had, she probably wouldn’t have thought twice about any of tonight’s events. He knew where the spare key to her apartment was hidden. He had no qualms about letting himself in, the same way he had none about entering Orochimaru’s lab. The dinner he bought for her wasn’t any different than the times he brought take-out to her at the hospital on late nights. Even his physical touch didn’t pass any boundaries they’d set in the past.

“Oh, my God,” she lamented, her fingers nesting in her damp hair. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t… I _shouldn’t_ do this to you. I’m so wrapped up in my own damned head that I can’t think.”

“So don’t.” He said it like it was the most obvious conclusion. “Look, I’m not going to treat you any differently. Why would I? If you decide you want me to get lost, well, you haven’t had a problem telling me that before.” His smile went unreturned. “I just need you to be _honest_ with me. Running off, hiding, that’s not you. That’s never been you. Now, if you want me to leave, look me in the eye and tell me to.”

“I think I need you to stay. I know it’s selfish,” she admitted. She was feeling unstable, and she wasn’t nearly as good at treating mental trauma as she was physical. She was temped to open up her bedside drawer and take out the photo frame that lay face-down, which would only torture her. “I have to go back to the hospital in the morning. I can’t afford to stay up all night.”

“And me staying will help?”

She nodded. “I won’t go to sleep if I’m alone. I can’t make myself, and it’s already…” she glanced at the clock. “Midnight,” she sighed. “Dammit.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Here’s the deal. You and me, we stay the same. Just Tsunade and Jiraiya. I don’t expect anything else. _But,_ ” he added, “that means that I’m not going to act any different. So, if I want to buy you dinner, or tape my outline around your living room, I’m going to do it. Okay?”

Finally, she looked up at him. She smiled weakly as she asked, “That was an outline?”

Jiraiya snorted at that. “Don’t question my methods. I wrote seven chapters today, thank you very much. I’d say you’re good luck, but we both know that’s a lie.”

She took a swing at him and missed. Seeing that she was in a slightly better mood, which is to say no longer crying, he reached over her and took the telephone from the bedside table. He held the base in his left hand and the phone in his right, dialing a number from memory.

“Who are you calling?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Shhhh,” he cautioned her. “Hi, yeah, can you patch me through to admin?” he spoke into the phone, earning a comical look of confusion from Tsunade. “Thanks.” He waited a moment before speaking again. “Hi. Yeah, I’m calling for Tsunade Senju. She won’t make it in tomorrow. Yeah, real nasty case of food poisoning.” He leaned back, out of her reach as she tried to snatch the phone away. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah. Great, thanks.” He depressed the lever on the base, ending the call just before she was able to get a hold on him. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back, and she snatched the phone from his hands.

“What the hell?” she demanded, visibly annoyed.

“I’m helping.”

She was caught between wanting to strangle him and wanting to laugh at the grin on his face. Too tired to do either, she simply shook her head. “Sure.” Fatigue pulled her down to lie overtop of the quilt, and she lifted a hand to rub her eyes. She wanted to blame her outburst on exhaustion, and perhaps it played a part, but she was torn.

Dan’s death pulled the light out of her life. She was so far gone that Jiraiya and Orochimaru took turns keeping an eye on her, just in case her grief took her. Three years, and she’d begun to heal. She still ached. Jiraiya’s presence didn’t soothe the pain, but it was a pleasing distraction in its own right. As much as she wanted to believe it, to condemn herself for it, she wasn’t intentionally using him. It was like their interactions were a world apart from those she had with Dan. Somehow, it didn’t seem like they ever intersected. Her guilt came about when she remembered, when she felt as though she was leaving one of them behind. It was confusing and painful. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She was pulled from her thoughts when his large, rough hand took hold of hers. It was so different. Dan had been slender, all angles and grace. It was different… but not unpleasant. She turned her palm over and laced her fingers through his, finding solidarity in the touch. It wasn’t the same; it would never be the same. And, yet, wasn’t that the point?

No longer feeling like she would lose control, she squeezed his hand, staring at the ceiling as she asked, “Do you hate me?”

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” he replied, voice soft.

She hesitated. “Do you think he hates me?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. “He doesn’t.” Jiraiya wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her to him, curling around her and holding her. “Stop trying to convince yourself that you’re a bad person, Princess.”

She allowed him to cradle her, and she permitted herself to feel safe in his grasp. He had a knack for calming her down, helping her ground herself. Giving herself a few minutes of solace, she turned over in his hold and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. He hummed quiet reassurances and gently rubbed the small of her back until he felt her relax. When she spoke, he felt more than heard the words that were lost against his skin.

“You have to come up if you want to talk to me.”

Lifting her head proved to be a challenge, requiring her to fight her way through the mess of white hair that did its best to cling to her face. Her nose crinkled as she huffed her annoyance. Once free, she repeated herself. “I said that I won’t be able to sleep yet and asked if you wanted to watch a movie with me.” If she could become distracted enough by the plot, it would hopefully put her mind at ease and stave off any impending nightmares. If she slept in the state she was right now, she’d be awake throughout the night from bad dreams.

“Can I pick?”

“No. You may have been gone, but Oro and I haven’t forgotten about last time. Being away doesn’t get you out of your ban; it just suspended it.”

“Come on,” he groaned dramatically, falling onto his back as though wounded.

“And put some clothes on. Pervert.”


End file.
